


unfinished business

by victorias



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-19 11:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4744415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorias/pseuds/victorias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The absolute worst kept secret in Camp Jaha was, without a doubt, the betting pools.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nyxierose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/gifts).



> I had pretty loose guidelines for what to write, so I thought, "You know what this fandom needs? Ladies sparring and Marcus and Abby flirting and more betting pools." And I know you love Linctavia, Nyxierose, so I had to include them, as well!

The absolute worst kept secret in Camp Jaha was, without a doubt, the betting pools.

There was one for everything: first snowfall, the timeline for Clarke Griffin’s return, how many heads the next deer they saw would have, how fast Monty and Jasper could get themselves arrested, the next explosion Raven would cause, Octavia’s glare count, just how close the Chancellor and the last Councillor were, and, of course, the sparring.

The sparring was a favourite.

It was also the most well attended. 

Entire events weren't made out of them--there was just too much to do in their ever expanding camp to drop everything and watch two people try to beat each other up--but a small crowd, usually occupied by the contestants' friends, was not an uncommon sight in the old Ark airlock-turned-training area. Bets of moonshine, jobi nuts, and freshly hand crafted soap were the norm, with the occasional scrap part and duty shift battered in the mix. 

To the general populace, the Chancellor knew nothing of the illegal activity going on under her nose. Out of sight, out of mind. Abby Griffin wasn't the world's number one rule follower, but she certainly wasn't one to gamble on hastily organized sparring session. No one expected the Chancellor to participate in such trivial activities.

This was, of course, why she had the second biggest supply of moonshine in the camp, and also why the former delinquents learned how to bet properly. Betting against Abby Griffin was a lesson one learned just the once. Betting the same way as Abby Griffin was the most useful lesson one could ever learn. 

Today's match was a frequent one: Lincoln versus Bellamy Blake. The Grounder had been training Bellamy for months; in between his tutelage under Marcus Kane to become a full fledged guard and Council member, Bellamy could often be spotted wrestling with Lincoln (and, by extension, Octavia) either in the Ark, or the sprawling plains around the back of the Camp. 

Abby leaned against the old frame of the airlock door that had once been her intended final destination and watched, carefully, as Bellamy hauled himself back on his feet after a frankly spectacular throw down from Lincoln. In front of her, Raven Reyes clutched a sizable bottle of moonshine in one hand while she added to the chorus of wolf whistles with the other. 

"Get back in your head," Lincoln advised the boy. Bellamy closed his eyes, fleetingly, giving his freckled face a little shake. "Good. Now show me what you did wrong."

Bellamy lunged for Lincoln again. Where he had hit Lincoln in the chest before, now he aimed lower, for the bend of Lincoln's torso. His shoulder plowed into the other man's bare stomach and propelled them both forward (to no shortage of whoops and hollers from Octavia, Monty, Miller, Harper, Monroe, and Raven) until both men hit the padded mats with a whoosh. 

"Bell takes Lincoln! Who had that?" Harper craned her neck to see around a few other crowded in Arkers next to the usual delinquent squad. 

"Abby did!" Raven yelled over the crowd, holding the prize of moonshine aloft. “Sorry, _Chancellor Griffin_. Chancellor Abigail Griffin, sparring junkie had it!"

Abby sighed. 

"Raven." 

"What?" Raven turned her head to grin at Abby. "I'm used to calling you Abby. Or I could call you what I overheard Kane saying the other day." She put on a gruff voice. "'Honey, have you organized the next scouting party yet?' Chancellor Honey has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?" 

"All right, what do you want to keep that information to yourself?" Abby asked, resigned, clearly remembering Marcus asking her that when they thought they were alone in the Council chambers. He'd said it as he poured over the latest food stock reports from the newly established farmers, casually throwing the word at her as she gathered both their jackets and reports to study further in the privacy of her (unofficially their) quarters. Raven didn’t have to know that that particular moment was the first time he’d slipped and called her it, nor did she have to know that Abby had teased him all the way back through the Ark about how long he’d been calling her ‘honey’ in his head.

Raven looked pointedly at the bottle of moonshine that Abby had just won. Abby huffed out a laugh.

“Keep it.”

“You are a fair and wise leader, Chancellor Griffin. You will go far.” Raven glanced back at the mats, where Lincoln was hauling himself up to take a towel (and a punch in the shoulder) from Octavia. "Who has winner?"

Abby should have known Bellamy's grin was too wide. She should have guessed, from the smile on Lincoln's face--and the smirk on Octavia's--that she was definitely missing something. But it happened too fast, and Abby was a little distracted, so really, she should be forgiven for not immediately noticing Marcus Kane stepping into the ring until it was too late. 

"Kane versus Blake! Place your bets!" Harper called. The girl was immediately buried under a siege of Arkers willing to trade up anything for a shot at gambling on the two men. 

"What is he doing?!" Abby asked, straightening up and staring, incredulously, at her bone-headed Councillor as he shed his boots and started to chat with Bellamy. He was twice Bellamy's age. Or, more importantly: Bellamy was half of his, and in peak physical form. Marcus was no slouch--his strong arms and lean waist weren't exactly hidden beneath the green t-shirt he sported (or hidden from Abby at all, who had, upon seeing him shirtless in her quarters for the first time, promptly licked her lips). But, he wasn't 20, and he certainly would feel whatever was about to happen a lot longer than Bellamy would. 

"Oh, this is gonna be good," Raven said, settling back against the wall with a look of glee upon her face. "Abby, your boyfriend is pretty cut. For an older guy."

"Thank you for your input, Reyes." Marcus' voice would have made a lesser person flush at being caught out, but only made Raven shrug. He sauntered over to the two with his eyes trained directly on Abby's. He looked smug, which just made Abby even more irritated at him. Why hadn't he told her? What the hell was he thinking? Why did he have to look _that good_ while just walking? "Hello, Abby."

"Councillor." Abby crossed her arms. "What are you doing?"

"It's a fight. I'm participating." His half-grin pulled the scar on his lip in an annoyingly attractive way. No, no. She was mad at him right now. 

"And who do you think is going to patch you up?" She asked, raising her eyebrows at him. She couldn't believe he wouldn't tell her he wanted to spar. And for their little gambling ring, no less. She believed in him, but still...

"Abby." Marcus dropped his voice low, for only them (and, by extension, Raven, who clearly did not want to miss out on "irritate Abby hour") to hear. "I want to do this. I can do this."

Abby bit her lip and ran her eyes up and down him. He was in his usual black pants and dark t-shirt, and thus giving none of the power she knew he possessed away. Yes, he could do this. He'd just be complaining about it for days. 

"Raven, put a bottle of moonshine on Marcus." Abby didn't take her eyes from Marcus'. His gaze twinkled with delight at her faith him. 

"Betting against the tide, Chancellor," Raven warned, nodding in Abby's bet to Harper. "Not your favourite tactic."

"No," Abby said, slowly, looping her fingers around Marcus' belt loops and yanking him forward until he was pressed flush against her. "But definitely my favourite contender."

Marcus barely had time to smirk before her lips were on his in a deep, hard kiss, all desperate lips and biting teeth. His beard tickled along her cheeks; she huffed out a quiet whine through her nose as he sucked lushly at her bottom lip, beard scraping deliciously against her skin. Marcus reached up to bury his hands in her hair and deepen the kiss at the same time Abby gripped at his sides with her hands, bunching the fabric of his shirt until she could touch skin. Somewhere, outside the bubble they'd created for just the two of them, a chorus of whistles (led by Raven) whooped around the room. Abby let her lips part and brushed her tongue, once, against his own before pulling back to kiss him at the corner of his mouth, then up towards his ear. 

"Bellamy should be sufficiently distracted now. He swings wild. Get him while he's exposed." Abby whispered as quietly to Marcus as she could with Raven standing beside them, unashamedly eavesdropping. "You can do this, Marcus."

Marcus squeezed her shoulders as he released her, cheeks flushed and lips parted to pull in some much needed air. 

"Yes, m'am." He nodded, cheekily, and swooped into steal one last kiss before he turned to face his now stunned opponent. "Ready, Blake?"

And, well, Bellamy really was not. 

 

* * *

 

The entire exchange between Marcus and Bellamy prior to them facing each other in front of all of their peers went something like this:

"You should spar with us sometime, Kane." 

"I spar with you all the time, Blake."

"Yeah, but not with the crowds. Lincoln has taught us a ton, we should use it. Wrestling championships. Camp bonding and stuff. Good for morale."

"And a good excuse to participate in some casually illegal gambling at the same time?"

"Well, yeah. But Chancellor Griffin knows about it. She even sometimes comes to bet. And she wins. A lot. Bet she'd love to see you get all sweaty and fight someone."

"Are you hitting on Abby for me, Blake?"

"Just an observation. Could be a good chance to show off some of your moves, that's all."

And if Bellamy didn't know that Marcus already knew Abby attended their events (he'd once gotten a brand new t-shirt via Mount Weather for her troubles), and if Bellamy didn't know that Marcus didn't really have a need to impress Abby (they'd been sleeping together for a few weeks now, sneaking in and out of each other's quarters with hot kisses and whispered promises), and if Bellamy didn't know that surprising Abby with this absolutely terrible plan would be the perfect kind of date, well...that would just have to stay Marcus' business, wouldn't it? 

 

* * *

 

Marcus took in the stunned form of Bellamy Blake as he toed his boots off and stepped into the ring. (It really wasn't much of a ring--it was a bunch of mats laid out in an airlock whose doors were forced open to let the outside air in, but they all called it a ring, for some reason, and so a ring it was.)

"Alright, folks, a first time fight here. Councillor Marcus Kane versus Bellamy "Whatever the hell we want" Blake! Here we go!" Harper had climbed onto a bit of exposed metal ledge to project herself over the crowd. "Aaand 3, 2, 1--FIGHT!"

Bellamy was just shaking off the shock of Marcus revealing the extent of his deception when Marcus took the opportunity while it was still there to immediately kick Bellamy's legs out from under him. The boy's eyes went wide as he crashed, hard, into his back with a mighty whoosh of breath. 

"Ow." Bellamy grunted, quickly scrambling back to his feet. "So, you're a lot sneakier than I thought you were."

Bellamy did exactly as Abby predicted: he swung wide and wildly, aiming for Marcus' nose and missing by a mile. Marcus swung a compact punch right into Bellamy's solar plexus. 

"I was a politician, Blake." Marcus said, breathing steadily as Bellamy recovered and threw a completely accurate punch to Marcus' stomach. He felt the air leave his lungs as Bellamy's fist connected with his body. 

"So, what," Bellamy breathed, catching one of Marcus' flying fists in his firm grip and pulling his arm away from his body. "You here to impress your girl? That it?"

"More like surprise her." Marcus' arm burned from where Bellamy was bending it farther and farther away. He brought his foot up and pushed the boy away, forcefully. "And if we win some illegal contraband at the end, then we've really just done our jobs as leaders to help clean up the camp."

Bellamy huffed. 

"You got it bad, Kane." He charged at Marcus, suddenly, shoulder plowing straight into Marcus' stomach, just as he'd done with Lincoln. They crashed into the mats in a huge jumble, each scrambling to get one up on the other as they kicked and pushed at each other. "This is the weirdest date I've ever seen."

Bellamy was heaving now, words choked out through gritted teeth as Marcus successfully pinned him with an arm at his throat. 

"Yeah," Marcus gasped, glancing up at where Abby's heavy-lidded gaze was settled on him. "It worked, though. Give in, Blake." 

Marcus didn't feel the retaliation coming. Bellamy hauled his legs up and got them high enough to slam against Marcus' shoulders. Marcus fell back and Bellamy went with him, pushing him with his legs and arms until Marcus was pinned in the exact same way. 

"Not bad," Marcus grunted. And then he brought his hands up, slapped at both of Bellamy's ears, and that was it--Bellamy fell back, disoriented, and Marcus flipped him onto his belly and dug his knee into the small of his back. 

Bellamy lifted his hand and slapped the mat three times. He was out. 

Shouts erupted from the crowd. Clearly, none of them had expected Marcus to win. That was fine, really, because he's been betting on every single one of them underestimating him. They looked at his age, but not the experience that came with it. He'd been training for longer than Bellamy had been walking. 

Marcus lifted his knee off Bellamy and collapsed beside him, grinning, meeting the boy's grudgingly given smile and laughing. "Age before beauty, Blake."

Bellamy rolled his eyes and pushed himself up to his elbows. "You fought teenager to impress a girl. You don't get to pull any of that wise old man crap."

"Who's got winner?" Harper shouted. Marcus felt his stomach drop. He'd really only intended on fighting Bellamy. That was as far as his plan went. 

And then his stomach felt like it had plummeted towards his feet, because Lincoln slipped quietly into the ring with a grin on his face. 

"Councillor." He nodded, reaching two hands out to haul both men to their feet. "I believe I'd like the opportunity."

Marcus looked back at Abby. She merely raised an eyebrow with an unmistakable display of "you got yourself into this mess" and crossed her arms, settling in. Yup, he was a dead man. 

Bellamy melted back next to Raven as Lincoln met his eyes. This wasn't going to be a long fight. 

In fact, it took exactly ten seconds after Harper counted them down for both men to hit the mats. 

Neither of them were exactly on top of their game, having both fought Bellamy. And neither of them really wanted to hurt the other, because this really was just sparring. And, really, Lincoln was much more skilled. And bigger. Much bigger. Lincoln was built like a goddamn _god_. 

But he was heavy, and they were both a bit slow, and so Marcus' knees got swept out from underneath him, and his rolling into his side to kick Lincoln's knees wasn't exactly graceful, and really, in the end, there was nothing dignified in the way the two men's heads smashed together as Lincoln came down and Marcus sprang up. 

They both crumpled. The whole room winced as one, "Ooos" following them as they both splayed out on the mats with lights dancing across their eyes. Marcus was the dizziest he'd ever been (and he'd experienced severe oxygen deprivation), and he kind of felt like he could taste colours. 

A vision appeared above him. Wavy, honey brown hair, perfectly arched cheekbones, and a delicately tipped nose filled his gaze, brown eyes awash with real concern as her sloped lips tried to speak to him. He could hear echoes of his own name in the distance. Marcus didn't care. It was far more important to catalog all the different features of his Chancellor's face and appreciate them in turn. (Mischievously shaped eyebrows, stubborn but beautiful jaw, long, long, impossibly long eyelashes...)

"You look like an angel," Marcus said, his voice sounding close and really far away at the same time. 

"You look like an idiot." Abby snapped. The laughter behind him indicated to him very quickly that he hadn't said that as quietly as he would have liked. 

"Hey, congrats, Kane," Raven said, suddenly standing over him with a whole mess of moonshine clutched in her arms. "You won a bunch of booze, and you embarrassed your girlfriend. Most men don't get to have it both ways."

The fog slowly cleared from Marcus' head as Abby ran her hand over his forehead and down his cheek. 

"I'd like to get up now," he said, reaching up and tangling his fingers with Abby's. His head felt like he'd--well, it felt like he'd smacked it against a Grounder's, frankly, but the pain wasn't throbbing in front of his skull anymore. 

Abby took hold of his elbow and helped pull him to his feet. He leaned on her, heavily, letting her wrap an arm around his back and lead him to the edge of the mats. 

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, and he knew it was quiet enough this time, because only Abby lifted her head at his words. She squeezed his waist and helped prop him against the airlock wall. Abby cradled his head in her hands and brushed her thumbs against his cheeks.

Around them, a chorus of "rematch, rematch" met their ears. Marcus looked up to see the crowd buzzing with renewed energy. He felt Abby pull away from him.

"What--"

"You didn't finish your fight," Abby smirked. She was inexplicably stripping off her jacket and boots, shoving it all at a dazed Marcus. "Mutual knock out doesn't exactly declare you a winner, Marcus."

"But Raven--" 

"Has my winnings from your fight with Bellamy." Abby pulled her hair into a high ponytail as she talked. "The rest is still up for grabs. I saw a beautiful fur blanket in there, Marcus. That's going home with us."

"What..." Marcus couldn't really process what was going on. All he could really see was Abby shimming out of her usual pants to reveal workout shorts underneath, and then his poor brain short circuited a little at the amount of tanned leg suddenly on display from his, as Raven delicately put it, girlfriend. 

Past Abby, Octavia Blake nearly bounced into the ring, clad in leggings and a chopped up t-shirt that she'd fashioned into a serviceable workout top. She, too, had her hair in a ponytail, and her feet were bare. A wave of calm swept over her face as he watched; the warrior emerged as she stood in front of a grinning Lincoln. It was only then that Marcus' fuzzy brain cottoned on to what was happening: Abby was about to step into the ring. 

"How did you know?" Marcus asked. Abby crossed her arms over her stomach and approached him with her eyebrows raised. "How did you know I'd be here, that I would tie with Lincoln? How did you know to be ready?"

Abby reached out and gently patted his arm. It would have been condescending, but her touch was comforting; he caught her hand in his as her fingers brushed down the length of his forearm. 

"I was always planning to spar with Octavia today, Marcus. You just made it a lot more interesting.” 

 

* * *

 

In fact, the whole idea of sparring had only come up after Abby had approached Octavia a month prior.

“I need to learn to defend myself.”

“I’ll say. I can’t be there to save you every time you and Kane get buried under rocks.”

“Thank you for that, by the way.”

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

“So, will you? I’ll trade you some emergency medical field training, in return.”

“You don’t want Kane to? He and Bell are learning a lot from Lincoln.”

“I want it to be you, Octavia."

“And you want to randomly surprise the shit out of Kane some day.”

“Absolutely.”

 "Fine. But I can't teach you everything. Start showing up to the fights you pretend you don't know about. Observe them. Learn weaknesses."

"Place a few bets?"

"I don't see why not."

And so, it was really was that easy.

 

* * *

 

Abby leaned forward and placed one gentle kiss to the impressive bruise forming over Marcus’ left eyebrow. The stupid man just had to go and get himself a mild concussion in some wild bid to…well, she wasn’t exactly sure what he was trying to do, exactly. Probably try and surprise her with some bizarre date that would end with them walking into the sunset with all of his winnings in their arms.

Boy, that plan had failed.

Luckily for Marcus (or unluckily, depending on the point of view), Abby and Octavia had arranged for their first public spar days ago. They’d informed Lincoln of their plan, too, just to give him a heads up on just how big the betting pool was going to get, with the Chancellor in the mix. Lincoln had smirked when Abby had sworn him to secrecy (okay, sworn him into not telling Marcus what she was up to). Now, Abby realized, he was actually smirking at both she and Marcus’ absolutely ridiculous timing.

Abby took her place on the mats and planted her bare feet firmly on the cool vinyl. Across from her, Octavia was smirking, slightly, at the cheers that bounced and echoed through the airlock. The two women had been training for weeks, learning hand-to-hand combat (Abby) and proper field injury procedures (Octavia). Abby also had some basic sword training up her sleeve, and a promising future as an archer, but those particular skills were a surprise for another day.

“All bets are held over from the spectacular failure of Kane versus Lincoln!” Harper shouted. “Their seconds will now try to save their dignities! Griffin versus Blake! Fight!”

The difficulty in sparring was the requirement that one must hold back, in order to not completely beat the crap out of one’s trainer. Octavia and Abby had agreed not to go for the face, and not to break limbs. Other than that, though, all bets were off.

Octavia struck first. She aimed a kick high and fast, her foot brushing the air over Abby’s hair as she ducked to avoid the swinging limb. Abby took the opportunity to slam her forearm into Octavia’s exposed back; Octavia stumbled and fell forward, rolling out of her fall gracefully. Abby still hadn’t mastered the kind of recovery that seemed to come naturally to the younger woman.

Abby bounced a little on her toes as she watched Octavia crouch. The girl came at her, fast, quicker than she’d expected, and the next thing Abby felt was her knees buckling as Octavia grabbed one of her ankles and yanked. Abby hit the mat on her back and quickly put her leg up to stop Octavia advancing over her with a foot to the girl’s shoulder. Octavia fell backwards and Abby pushed herself to the balls of her feet, crouched and waiting for what Octavia would do next.

“That was good,” Octavia whispered, grinning at Abby. Abby nodded. She was completely out of breath, but she needed to formulate her next move before Octavia struck.

Octavia rose fully to her feet, and Abby saw her chance. She lunged for the younger woman and caught her around the waist, bringing her down, hard, on her back. Octavia seemed to barely lose her breath before she was grappling at Abby’s arms and rolling her onto her back in a pretty solid pin.

Abby kicked her legs up, dislodging Octavia enough to get one leg around her neck. She pulled the other up and locked her there, securely, holding on even when Octavia whipped this way and that to try and escape the choke hold she’d taught her.

The crowd was roaring. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Marcus staring at the pair of them with his jaw completely slack. He looked like an old cartoon character, all wide eyes and shocked face, and Abby had to fight back a laugh as she struggled to keep a hold on Octavia with her legs.

“Alright!” Octavia yelled. She slumped down in defeat and slapped the mat three times. It was over. Abby immediately let the girl go to splay out, exhausted, onto the mats. Octavia took the opportunity to slap Abby in the leg.

“That was amazing, Abby!” She panted, climbing onto her knees. “I am so proud of you.”

Abby felt a rush of affection for the younger girl burst in her chest as Octavia rose to her feet like the comment was nothing, like she doled out such kindness on a daily basis. Which she did, Abby realized, sitting up—Octavia had a rebellious streak and a quick mouth, but she was kind and strong, and she’d taken every opportunity she could not only to train Abby, but to reassure her even before Clarke had disappeared that everything was going to be okay.

A hand came into her view. Lincoln’s strong grasp helped pull Abby to her feet; she smiled at him in thanks as he gripped her shoulder with his other hand.

“You are becoming a fine warrior, Chancellor,” he said. Abby nodded at him and patted his arm in thanks.

“She is a great teacher.” Abby indicated the smiling Octavia. 

Lincoln nodded and went to sweep Octavia up in a hug. How he did that after two fights, Abby didn't know. She approached her own companion with a smug grin on her face.

Marcus, from the looks of him, was fresh out of any kind of energy, but he was smiling softly at her from where he leaned with Raven against the airlock wall. 

"Aren't you full of surprises, Chancellor." Marcus smirked. 

"Likewise, Councillor." Abby took her discarded pants from him and slipped them over her shoulder. No point in tugging them back on over her sparring shorts when she'd just get overheated the second they were buttoned. Plus, she was definitely enjoying the look on Marcus' face every time his gaze drifted to her legs.

"You two are ridiculous," Raven sighed. She looked up and nodded to Harper, who hauled a sizeable backpack and blanket over to them and passed them off to Abby. 

"Your winnings, Chancellor. Sorry about the language, but...you're kind of a badass." Harper looked a little intimidated, but she was smiling at Abby all the same. 

"Thank you, Harper. Not apologies necessary. You're all adults." Abby looked back at Marcus with her last statement. She wasn't trying to make a bold declaration, but she wanted the kids to know that she’d come a long way since she and Marcus had crashed from the stars and into the world the delinquents had adapted to first. Harper grinned.

“See you at the next fight?”

“If we’re still walking,” Marcus grunted, pushing himself off the wall. Harper nodded and scampered back to where Monty and Jasper were looking a little green at the sheer amount of moonshine they’d lost. Raven plucked a small bottle of it from the bag in Abby’s hand and nodded to them both.

“Finder’s fee.” She grinned and disappeared into the crowd. Abby shoved her pants and top into the bag and slung it on her back, stuffing the blanket in Marcus’ hands.

“Come on, old man. I’ll help you hobble to Medical.” Abby pulled his arm around her shoulders and slipped her own around his waist. Marcus didn’t bother pulling away from her; she secretly thought he might be enjoying getting to walk all wrapped up in each other like they were.

“Don’t know where you get off calling me old, your highness.” Marcus turned and kissed the top of her head as they made it out into the quiet halls of the Ark. “I won one round.”

“Yeah, and bashed your head in on the next, Marcus. Now we’re going to be up half the night making sure you don’t have a concussion.”

“Good thing we share quarters. And there’s worse ways to spend a night than being woken up by you every few hours.” Marcus’ smirk could have powered a small city.

“I bet Lincoln is this romantic with Octavia.” 

“Lincoln’s more of a 'actions speak louder than words' guy.” Octavia appeared behind them, suddenly, startling them both to a stop. Abby steadied Marcus as she shouldered the bag off and passed it to Octavia.

“What—“ Marcus looked between the two of them, bewildered.

“We agreed to split the profits,” Abby said, nodding to where Octavia was shouldering the backpack. “We’ve got enough moonshine to last us the next decade. I just wanted the blanket.”

Marcus moved the blanket from his side to look at it properly. It was a heavy fur, soft and warm, and the colour of pure snow. 

“Did you make this?” Marcus asked, suddenly, and Abby was extremely proud of him in that moment.

“She did. She put it in the betting pool anonymously before the fight. The plan was always for her to get the goods, and me to get the blanket. That way, she wasn’t just gifting the Chancellor something. I had to fight for it.” Abby was thrilled at the nod of approval Octavia gave her.

“You’ll both make good warriors, yet.” Octavia tilted her head as she looked at Marcus. “Well. As long as you and Lincoln wear helmets.”

With that, she was gone, leaving a thoroughly amused Abby and an incredulous Marcus in her wake. Abby turned into him and leaned up on her toes to place a kiss on his lips.

“Wanna go get patched up in Medical, and then crawl under this blanket and be woken up every few hours to make sure you’re still alive?” Abby asked after she broke the kiss. Marcus quirked his lips at her in a small smile and began to walk again, his arm still slung over her shoulder.

“You say the sweetest things."

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was just meant to be a standalone fic for the lovely Nyxierose, but then SOMEONE (waterfights, it was waterfights), pointed out a fairly hilarious continuity error that I just...could not let go. So here it is: the saga of Abby Griffin's jeans.

Abby didn’t realize her massive mistake until she woke the next morning with Marcus half-sprawled on top of her.

It wasn’t the partially starfished man that bothered her—Marcus had fallen asleep (for the final time, after being woken no fewer than 7 times through the night so she could check on him) with his head pillowed under her chin, while Abby stroked his hair to lull them both to sleep. Somehow, the relatively comfortable position they’d fallen asleep in had become Abby flat on her back with one hand thrown above her head, while her entire body was blanketed by at least half of an out-cold Marcus, legs and all. The arm not tossed above her head was the one he’d fallen asleep on top of, and which was still pinned under his head with Abby’s hand shoved haphazardly in the dark, curled locks. She was effectively trapped.

But no, the thing that bothered her was not being Marcus Kane’s personal body pillow. It was, in fact, the slowly dawning horror that she could not leave her quarters anytime soon.

Because Octavia had her backpack.

And that backpack had her pants.

Abby Griffin, Chancellor of Camp Jaha and current Leader of the Sky People had absolutely no pants to her name. The workout shorts she’d fallen into bed wearing out of sheer exhaustion were now the only things she had to wear to cover her legs. And, by the nature of them being workout shorts, they covered very little at all. Heading from the airlock to Medical was one thing, but she very well couldn’t go and get breakfast at the makeshift cantina in spandex shorts (as much as Marcus might enjoy that). 

Abby untangled her fingers from Marcus’ hair and scratched at his scalp absentmindedly as she pondered her frankly ridiculous situation. Marcus grunted on top of her at once, body stretching out like a cat’s at the feeling of Abby’s fingers running through his hair.

“Marcus,” Abby whispered, wishing she could tug his hair to get his attention, but reluctant to with the beating his head had taken the day before. “Marcus, wake up.”

Marcus’ eyes snapped open at once. His whole body tensed against hers before his brain could register where he was, and who he was sprawled half on top of. Abby knew it was the years of training had taught him to be quick to wake. She also knew it was her own gentle coaxing that taught him to relax back against her if he jerked awake in the middle of the night. Abby still hadn’t mastered the skill she herself had taught Marcus—her nightmares often came with her trying to escape their bed in a desperate bid to get as far away from her dreams as she could. They were working on it, though.

“Abby.” Marcus shifted a little to roll more onto his side, tilting his head up to meet her eyes with her hand still stroking his hair. “Why are we awake?”

“I’m sending you on a mission.” Abby watched the confusion bloom across his face with amusement. Marcus did stern very well, but he also had absolutely no poker face. If he felt it, his face was expressing it.

“I don’t think either of us is in any state to be sanctioning or spearheading missions, Chancellor.” Marcus’ voice was heavy with sleep.

“It’s just a small one. Solo job. Across camp.” Abby leaned down and pressed her lips against his sleepily confused ones. “Do you recall us winning a sparring tournament, and thus an entire load of prizes that we then gave to Octavia?”

“I do remember yesterday, yes, Abby.” Marcus said, exasperated.

“And do you remember me stripping off my only pair of pants to properly spar and win all those prizes?”

“I remember that part most vividly.” Marcus grinned and kissed the curve of her jaw.

“Uh huh. And I put those pants, and my jacket, in the backpack full of said prizes. The backpack we then gave to Octavia.”

Abby watched the puzzle pieces fall into place. Marcus sighed heavily and dropped his head back to bury his face in the crook of her neck, rubbing his face back and forth across her collarbone. Abby squealed a little at the feeling of his beard scratching against her skin.

“Scratchy beard!” She laughed, pushing at his shoulder. Marcus resurfaced again with a resigned smile on his face.

“I guess I’ll have to accept your mission, Chancellor.” Marcus pulled himself over her until he was laying completely on top of her, his heavy weight pressing her into their cot. Abby cradled his form with her legs as he kissed down her neck and rubbed his beard almost obnoxiously against where her neck and chest were exposed by her t-shirt. “Can’t have the Queen running around camp in tiny shorts with beard burn all over her chest."

“Marcus!” Abby pressed her hands to his cheeks and pushed his grinning face from her chest. “Knock it off!”

“Mm, no.” Marcus leaned up and kissed her, deeply, and she let her arms slid up his back to drag her fingers against the bare skin.

Abby indulged him for a few minutes—alright, maybe more than a few—before lightening her kisses to place soft, fluttering ones to his lips, nose, and jaw. “I’m going to need you to set out for your mission immediately, Councillor. We have a meeting with Sinclair in half an hour and I am not attending that in short shorts.”

“But what a sight,” Marcus growled, sitting up between her legs to run his hands over the bare expanse of her skin.”It’s honestly a crime to keep these legs under cloth, Abby.”

Abby raised one of her legs and crossed it over to where her other one rested against his side. Marcus looked delighted at the expanse of skin so readily available to his gaze, right up until she gently began to shove him off the bed with her foot dug into his ribs.

“That cloth is all I have, and I’d appreciate it back. Move your ass, Kane. Chancellor’s orders.”

Marcus didn’t let her finish pushing him off the bed. He grunted and stood for himself, groaning when the aches and pains from his fight with Bellamy made themselves known. He looked around the floor of their quarters for any sign of his shirt. The pants, he already had covered—he’d been too lazy to take them off before they fell asleep the night before.

Another grunt let her know he’d found his target. Marcus walked back over to the bed, grabbed the hem of Abby’s not-so-sneakily borrowed t-shirt, and pulled it over her head before slipping it back over his own.

“Why don’t you have any of your own clothes?!” Marcus said, exasperated once more as he sat and shoved his feet into his boots. Abby huffed and reached over the side of the bed for her customary navy blue top and pulled it on.

“Yours are softer.” Abby didn’t add in some sweet sentiment about them smelling like him, because while his natural scent was extremely appealing to her, no one on the ground got to stay fresh and clean for long. But, well…yeah, sometimes they did smell like him, and maybe that was nice to curl up to. But she wasn't going to  _tell_ him that.

“You’re lucky you’re about as big as a minute, otherwise I’d steal some of yours in retaliation.” Marcus laced up his boots and turned to lean over her on the bed. “I don’t think I could pull off your jeans.”

“I mean, you’ve managed to on multiple occasions.” Abby laughed into the kiss he bestowed upon her; he groaned at her terrible double entendre.

Marcus pulled back and straightened up. He let his eyes wander down the length of her legs one final time before smirking and standing to leave.

“Be good while I’m gone.” He said with his back to her.

“Mm,” Abby hummed. “Try not to collect any more head injuries while you’re out there, either.”

She heard his laughter as he closed the door on their quarters.

* * *

Marcus’ walk through camp should absolutely not have been as paid attention to as it was. It felt like he was back on the Ark (the one in space, not the one a hundred feet behind him), sneaking out of Callie’s quarters early in the morning to make his way back to his own room. This was no walk of shame. For one, he was technically leaving his own quarters. For another, how would anyone even know he was in Abby’s quarters, if he was already out in the Camp? He came out of the Ark the same way he would if he’d slept in his own…

Ah. Right. The fight. The…pre-fight. The thing that happened in the pre-fight that helped him with the actual fight. The pre-fight kiss thing. The pre-fight kiss thing that clearly the entire camp now knew about.

He ducked his head down as he passed the cantina to avoid the curious glances from more than a few of the 100 that hadn’t been present last night. Marcus Kane was no coward, but he had a job to do, and indulging teens (and adults, judging by the craning neck of Kyle Wick) in gossip was not it. He’d leave that to Reyes, who was present and yanking Wick down from his spot with a scowl.

Marcus made it to Octavia and Lincoln’s tent scot-free. And then froze. How was he…there wasn’t really anywhere to knock on a tent, and yelling seemed rude, but…

He was saved the awkward few moments of figuring out how to interrupt one tiny teenage warrior and her large warrior boyfriend by Octavia’s voice speaking through the tent.

“That you, Kane?”

“How did you know?” Marcus asked, ducking safely into the flap of the tent.

Octavia and Lincoln didn’t have too much space, but their tent was thankfully tall, with a cot that would accommodate them both easily. They had a few old Ark storage boxes, too, but the really impressive “decorative” touches seemed to be the absolutely massive array of weapons they had stored along the boxes and shelves. There was even a bow and arrow, which Marcus had been itching to learn for weeks now.

“Figured you’d come looking for these eventually.” Octavia hauled her rightfully won backpack up and opened it to show Marcus Abby’s now carefully folded clothes nestled at the bottom, under a bottle of moonshine. “Abby wasn’t going to run across camp in workout shorts after the display you two put on yesterday. I threw some moonshine in for when you feel like dealing with that revelation.”

Octavia closed and passed the backpack to Marcus, who shouldered it gratefully.

“Thank you.” Marcus glanced over at Lincoln, who was digging in a box with his back to them. “The cantina is already full of whispers.”

“Well, yeah,” Octavia said, fixing Marcus with a look that clearly said he should have known better. “You put on a show like that in front of a bunch of teenagers, word is gonna spread fast.”

“Then I should get back before someone else breaks that news to Abby.” Marcus nodded to Octavia in thankfulness and turned to go.

“Hang on!” Lincoln’s voice came from behind him. Marcus turned around to see him passing a bundle of black over to Octavia. She shook the item out to reveal it to be a pair of black pants, slim-cut with blessedly intact pockets and close-cut ankles that could easily be tucked into boots. Marcus furrowed his brow.

“Uh…”

“Tell Abby I have a surprise for her next victory.” Octavia turned the pants to show Marcus the utter newness of them. “Fresh from Mount Weather and tailored by me. That woman really needs more than one pair of jeans.”

Marcus almost grinned. He managed an amused half-smile, staring at the pants that actually looked like a smaller version of his own.

“She’ll love them.” He said.

“She’ll earn them,” Octavia replied matter-of-factly, folding the pants back up and handing them to Lincoln to return to their box. “No freebies when you’re training with a Blake.”

“Don’t I know it,” Marcus said, thinking of the bruises blossoming on his back. “Thank you, Octavia.”

“Just treat her well, Kane.” Octavia looked at him with crossed arms, her face brooking no room for argument. Marcus nodded his understanding to both she and Lincoln, and ducked back out of the tent.

Wick walked straight up to him.

“So, you and the Chancellor, huh?”

Marcus ignored him. He ignored them all, straight through the camp, not caring that they were staring and whispering. He was a Councillor and the head of the Guard, and he didn’t need to validate their gossip, and that’s what he told himself over and over while glaring at everyone around him until they backed off. He kept going all the way inside the Ark, past his quarters, and back into Abby’s, where he dropped his pack, shirt, and boots to crawl back in bed beside a laughing Abby.

“They all know,” he said, sliding onto his side so he could pull her up against him and wrap an arm around her stomach. “They all stared. I’m not leaving this room again.”

“Yes you are, we have a meeting in ten minutes.” Abby rolled over and placed a sweet kiss against his lips. “Up and at ‘em, old man. We have a Camp to run.”

Marcus reached up and buried a hand in her hair, pulling her in to deepen the kiss. He rolled her underneath him while coaxing her smiling lips open to let his tongue slip inside and brush against hers. He felt her legs come up to cradle his hips and secretly considered it a victory.

“Five more minutes,” he whispered against her lips. Abby rolled her eyes and squeezed his hips with her legs.

“Meeting. Me. You. Sinclair. Now.” She leaned up and kissed him one more time before rolling him off her. He sprawled out onto the bed with a sigh. He knew they had duties to attend to. He was a responsible man. He had a whole camp to help run. But it was so very tempting to pull Abby back into bed and spend the whole day locked in their quarters without a care in the world.

Abby’s words interrupted his musings.

“If we finish with Sinclair in time, we can sneak away for lunch.”

Marcus shot out of bed and back into his boots. He pulled his shirt back on as Abby buttoned her much-talked about pants, then waited patiently while she twisted the top parts of her hair back into her customary knot.

“Ready?” She said, combing her fingers through the soft waves of her hair as she slipped into her boots.

Marcus leaned over when she was finished and placed one last, lingering kiss to her lips.

“Ready."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering if "scratchy beard" was an X-Files reference: Dude, of course it was. Abby Griffin laughing while Marcus Kane scratches her with his beard 2K16!!! 
> 
> Also, Abby's new pants are based off of the ones Paige was wearing in Ricky's Periscope. Abby's new costume is a huge colour/style compliment to Kane's, and we should probably all talk about that at some point.


End file.
